


New Years

by deanwritings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Clubbing, F/M, Fluff, Las Vegas, New Year's Eve, Swearing, a wee bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwritings/pseuds/deanwritings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pairing: Dean x Reader</p><p>Warnings: Some jealous Dean, a doucebag, some swearing and NYE fluff</p><p>Summary: It’s New Years Eve in Sin City with the Winchester boys, and Dean gets to see the reader all dressed up for the first time</p><p>Words: 2500</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Years

**Author's Note:**

> Words: 2500
> 
> This ended up being much longer than I expected. Hopefully that’s okay!

"What do you mean you need an hour?" Dean complained as you ran past him with an armful of makeup and hair supplies to the bathroom door.

"Believe it or not, Dean, before I got involved with all this hunting crap, I use to be a girl, like a girly girl. Who did her hair and makeup everyday and even wore a dress and heels more often then not." Not anymore, though. Now a days, you sported t-shirts, jeans and boots. Hunting didn’t leave you with much time to look glamorous.

But it was New Years Eve, the first New Years Eve with Dean and Sam, and you wanted to look good. And not only that, but you were spending the holiday in Vegas! You had been once when you were in college, and you had been dying to go back ever since. Now you got to celebrate one of the best holidays in Sin City with your best friends.

You set your curling iron to high, pushed your hair back with a headband, and began your process.

A little over an hour later, Y/H/C hair was curled, you lips were painted red, and Y/C/E eyes glittered with gold.

Your feet were propped up in sparkling, gold heels, which were taller than you were use to, but you figured you could suck it up for the special occasion. You wore a hot red mini skirt and a white sequins top that dipped into a low V in the middle. Sure, it was much more…provocative…than you were use too, but what the hell. It’s Vegas!

You couldn’t help but squeal a bit as you looked in the mirror at yourself. You looked good. You looked really good.

But more than anything else, you were excited for Dean to see you all dressed up. And you couldn’t wait to spend a night out with him in some place other than a dive bar, where the two of you usually sported jeans and bruises from your latest hunt.

You had been hunting with the Winchesters since last February, having just become a hunter yourself after losing your cousin to a Wendigo. In those 10 months, you had become attached to the Winchester boys, but in two very different ways: Sam had taken on the role of a big brother you had never had. And Dean, well you never felt anything brotherly towards him. His cocky grin and shining green eyes made your stomach flip every time you looked at him. His do-or-die attitude and his willingness to risk it all just to save a regular Joe astounded you. He cared for people, both family and strangers, in a way you had never seen before in a person. He was a tough hunter, and caring guy all thrown into one self-deprecating, bow-legged man. Despite his views of himself, you had quickly fallen for the older Winchester. And you could only wish he felt the same way about you.

Your heels were muffled against the carpet as your made your way out to the bedroom.

Sam and Dean had their eyes glued on the tv, both with a beer in hand. Sam sat at the small table, and Dean was leaning against the wall. The two brothers were in their Fed slacks and jackets with button downs and no ties. 

"So," You called out, grabbing their attention. You opened out your arms so that they can get a full look at your outfit. "How do I look?" 

You eyes watched Dean as his gaze looks at you from head to toe. He emits a low whistle as his eyes meet yours.

"Wow, Y/N," A wide smile spreads across his face. "You look—amazing." He looks at you once more before ducking his head and returning his attention to the tv.

Sam looked at him just chuckled as he finished his off his beer.

"Should we head out?" Sam prompted as he tossed his empty bottle in the trash. 

You nodded your head and grabbed your purse from the counter and your jacket off the bed.

You were heading to the fake Eiffel Tower that housed the Chateau Nightclub and Gardens. You had one of the best nights of your life the last time you came and you couldn’t wait to revisit with the boys. Dean was a bit reluctant to go to a nightclub, wanting to stay in and watch “Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rocking Eve” like he did every year, but even Sam was excited for the change of pace, and eventually, the two of you had gotten him to agree. 

The three of you left the hotel and stared out onto the strip.

The street was packed. You’ve never seen so many people in your life. 

Standing between Sam and Dean, you hooked your arms through theirs for, one, you didn’t want to lose them in the crowd, and two, it gave you a reason to walk even closer to Dean. Which sounded so stupid. You felt like you where in middle school again when you went ice skating with your crush and purposely fell just so he would have to help you up. 

God, Y/N! Pull yourself together. 

The boys held on to you as you painfully push your way through the crowds towards the club. Thankfully, the walk was short, and Sam held open the lobby door and Dean placed his hand on your lower back and followed you through. Shivers ran down your arms and your belly tightend at his touch, but you keep your face calm as the three of you get in line to head up to the bar.

15 minutes and $20 later (which still has Dean grumbling since the concept of a cover charge never made sense to him):

"Why the hell do I have to pay just to go in and pay for more shit?" He pouted. 

You rode up the elevator from the entrance lobby to the garden part of the club. 

The bar was packed and the music was so loud you could feel the vibrations from the bass run through you. Purple and red lights went wild across the dance floor, shining across the dancing bodies of old friends and new strangers. 

"Go grab us a table, we’ll get the drinks." Dean’s lips tickled your ear as he yelled over the music of the club.

You gave him a thumbs up and began pushing your way through the crowds to the seating area on the opposite side of the dance floor.

There were only a few high top tables available by the time you squeezed your way through, and you grabbed the one closest to the overlook of the strip. 

Fireworks would be going off in just a few hours over the tops of the high rise hotels and you wanted to make sure you’d be able to see them.

You sat at the table, watching the Bellagio fountains shoot into the air in a sequenced dance when a hand touched your back.

You turned to face Dean, happy to finally see him, when your face fell.

The man, whose hand was still touching you, was not Dean.

"Hi there." He smirked. He wore an outfit similar to Sam and Dean, though his suit was pinstripe. His arm muscles looked bigger than his head, and there was no way his tan was real.

"Uh," You shrugged your shoulders, forcing him to remove his hand. "Hi." You try to smile politely, but you really just want Sam and Dean to hurry back.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He scooted closer to you.

"No, thanks. My friends are getting me a drink right now." You peered around the man, trying to catch a glimpse of the Winchester in the crowd. You spotted Sam, just because of his towering height, but no Dean. Even worse, Sam has his back to you, leaving you no way to signal him over.

"How about a dance then?" This time, his hand landed on your thigh, right above your knee. The shine is this guy’s eyes told you he wasn’t going to back off easily.

You grabbed his hand, ready to shove him off, when someone shoved the man from behind.

"The lady said ‘no,’ so back the hell off." Dean came into view and nearly broke his glass as he slammed it down on the table.

"Who the hell are you?" The guy straightens himself out, looking like he’s ready to fight. Despite the impressive muscles, you know there’s no way this guy can hold his own against Dean Winchester. 

If this guy only knew who he was up against.

"Trust me, pal, you don’t want to know." Dean stood at complete attention, with his jaw clenched as tight as his fists. 

You jumped off your stool, knowing this is about to take an ugly turn.

"Hey," You put your hands against Dean’s chest. "Just let it go." You mouth, knowing your words would just get drowned out in the noise around you.

You turned around to the man, your arms crossed tightly across your chest and your eyes glaring.

"Look, just leave us the fuck alone? Okay?"

The man stared at you, and up at Dean, who you’re sure is still sporting the same intimidating glance. 

"Whatever," The guy waves his hand at you in dismissal and walks away.

You let out a breath, happy that some dick didn’t just ruin your night. You turned around to Dean, who was watching the guy as he walked away.

"Thanks." You yelled to him, capturing his attention. 

He looked down at you.

The shadows from the dance floor hide half of his face, but his eyes still glimmered in the party lights. Your breath hitches and you bite down on your lip, trying to stop the thoughts that have been threatening you for months now. 

Dean wasn’t a one-gal type of guy. You got that. It didn’t stop you from wanting to be the only girl for him, you just couldn’t help yourself. And the way he stared at you, like you were the most important thing to him, only made it worse.

He was just looking out for you. You tell yourself in defeat.

You hopped back on your stool and take a swig from the glass on the table.

Bourbon. Of course.

"You okay?" Dean took the seat across from you. 

You grabbed the small black straw from the glass and chew it on—a nervous habit of yours, but you couldn’t help it. Between the loud music, the almost fight, and they way Dean kept glancing at you, you were completely on edge. 

"Fine. Thanks." Dean nodded as he looked out at the dance floor for a minute before returning his gaze to you as you took another swig.

"Hey! That’s my drink!" He reached out for the glass.

"Snooze, ya lose, Winchester." You stuck your tongue out at him as you drink again. 

"That’s the thanks I get for saving your ass back there?" He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

You point the nibbled straw at him.

"Hey! I was doing quite fine by myself! I was about to tell him to go screw himself when you came over. I didn’t need your help."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled. "I could have kicked his ass six ways to Sunday."

You laughed. Really, belly ache laughed. 

"Really, Dean? ‘Six ways to Sunday.’" You lowered your voice, imitating him. 

"Shut up," He groaned, reaching across the table and grabbing his drink and finishing it off.

Just then, Sam showed up, with a beer and some fancy looking cocktail. It’s not your usual Jack and Coke, but it’s a holiday, and it looked exciting.

Three Cherry Martinis and a Kinky Boots later (courtesy of Dean), it was one minute til midnight and you were feeling good. You had even managed to get Sam and Dean both out on the dance floor with you, though Sam had quickly found interest in a cute little red head who was with some wedding party.

Now it was just you and Dean at the table, and you were sporting a “Happy New Years” paper crown that the bar was handing out. You also managed to snag a few noise makers for you and Dean, though he didn’t really seem interested in blowing on one of the paper screechers, which meant that you now had to blow it had him ever other minute in a buzzed/drunk (if you’re being honest with yourself) attempt to get him to join him. He just swatted you away each time with a grin.

"10, 9, 8, 7," You looked at Dean, shouting the numbers at him. He just shook his head and smiled at you.

"6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The entire club erupted and club girls in bikinis started shooting confetti from those guns they used to throw t-shirts into the crowd at sporting events.

Fireworks shot off above the Bellagio. Huge, glittering gold fireworks that shook the club each time one went off. 

You eyes left the fireworks and looked at Dean; With confetti raining down on you, and everyone around the two of you locked in a kiss, you stood from your seat, and with an alcohol-induced confidence, grabbed Dean by the lapels of his shirt and crushed his lips to yours. 

Your whole body felt like it was on fire as his lips moved against yours, and the noise around you was silenced as the two of you kissed. 

When you pulled away, Dean’s eyes were still closed, and his lips were slightly parted. 

You bit your lip, suddenly worried that that wasn’t the best thing to do. Dean was your friend, and just because you had feelings for him, doesn’t mean he returned them.

Shit, shit, shit.

Dean’s eyes open and he stared at you. You wanted to look away and be embarrassed by your actions, but you just couldn’t. Those god damn forest green eyes of his were just too-

Before you can finish your thought, two warm, rough hands cupped your cheeks and pulled you back to the man that smells like leather and tastes like whiskey. And he’s kissing you, really, honest to god, kissing you. Not just some peck.

You grabbed on to his arms and kissed him back as hard as you can, wanting him to feel everything you feel for him with just your lips. And god, you can’t tell if it’s your imagination, or the alcohol, but it feels like he’s giving it right back.

Softly, he pulled away, this time with open eyes and that shit-eating grin of his on his face. 

"Happy New Years, Y/N." His hands are still on your face and wrapped up in your hair. His hands squeezed on you lightly, making his words even stronger.

"Happy New Years, Dean." You squeezed back.


End file.
